


Akrasia

by alwaysforevan



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Dream Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysforevan/pseuds/alwaysforevan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It goes against both their better instincts, but Jiyong can't be without Seungri.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sarang

**Author's Note:**

> \+ Told in second person point of view, with "you" being Jiyong.  
> \+ The story is not an AU, but many details of their lives were rearranged or left out to make it easier on my soul, and it was written at the end of July 2012/beginning of August 2012 (before GD's second solo came out). That was a while ago.  
> \+ Beta'd by the wonderful Evan, so all lingering mistakes are mine. Please point them out.

Sarang  (Korean)

**_love_ ** _; lit. “I wish to be with you until death.”_

 

Lee Seung Hyun admires you.

 

Probably loves you, even.

 

It’s flattering, and you like the fact that his eyes are always looking to you because the attention is enjoyable and the kid is amusing, but you don’t pay much mind to it.

 

He’s mostly annoying anyway—too arrogant, too optimistic, too naïve—and, while you admit that he has a molecule of actual talent, you don’t think it’s enough. Not in this business, not for you, not for the group you will be leading.

 

So you push him around and you tease him because he’s an okay kid, just not good enough for _you_ , and that’s not his fault. You and the other sunbaes bully him and make him do ridiculous things because you _can_ , because you’re all older, because you think he’s irritating, because he needs to learn to take the abuse if he’s going to be in the entertainment industry.

 

_Because he lets you._

 

In one particular instance of cruelty, you and the other sunbaes wake him up in the middle of the night in order to fetch you some water because you’re thirsty.

 

“Wake up! We’re thirsty! Get us water!” You shake him awake and, almost immediately, he starts blinking the sleep away from his eyes because he’s a pretty light sleeper and he listens to _everything_ you say and you _know_ that. You take advantage of that.

 

Yet he’s still sleepy when he talks and his panda eyes stand out more than ever. “Sunbae… What?”

 

“Water, from the water dispenser! Hurry up! We’re dying here.”

 

You’re lying. You’re not thirsty. No one is.

 

But it’s funny, watching him walk to the kitchen sleepily only to realize that there are no more water jugs left for the water dispenser, that you want him to go out and _buy_ the water jugs, and you grin as he starts getting dressed to go outside because you don’t even have to ask, he just goes. But then leaves and you almost feel guilty but not _really_.

 

You kind of hate it, the way the kid doesn’t stand up for himself and just does everything you tell him to because he _likes_ you. At one point, you start to think that you could tell him to jump off a bridge and he’d do it because, honestly, it’s more like he _worships_ you. And then you absently wonder if you would ever actually tell him to walk off a bridge. You think that, if he was being extra annoying, you might.

 

Then there’s that dance competition that YG makes all of you participate in.

 

Lee Seung Hyun is the leader of his team and you are the leader of yours and, for a second, you want to tell YG that it’s a pretty terrible idea. After all, little Seung Hyun’s inflated ego is kind of at stake here and you don’t want to _defeat_ the kid.

 

But you remind yourself that this is all for the best—people need to be eliminated, need to be defeated. You can’t have weaklings working with you; you need the best. If Seung Hyun has to realize that the hard way, then so be it. That’s how the industry works. You can’t afford to be kind, not now.

 

That attitude really gets to you, though.

 

You become 110% more critical of everything Hyun Seung and Dae Sung do. You like them, you think they’re your adorable hoobaes, but they have to do what you say right now. They are your _team_ , they need to get everything _right_ , they need to give you their very _best_ because you simply won’t accept anything less.

 

Then, the day before the competition, your teammates forget their steps and you can’t help the string of insults that rolls of your tongue. How the _hell_ did they just forget the steps you’ve been practicing with them for almost two weeks?

 

And you can see that they’re hurt by your words but it doesn’t really matter.

 

When the next day arrives and the two teams are in the same room, you kind of just decide to ignore everyone—especially Lee Seung Hyun, who’s walking around nervously, looking like he’s _sorry_ for being the leader of the other group. You don’t care what he feels; his feelings are probably kind of stupid anyway.

 

But then you see his group dancing and it’s good—that’s an understatement and you know it—and you feel a bit of admiration for little Seung Hyun but you push it away. You push the feeling away and you lock it somewhere deep inside of you because you’re stubborn, because you’re prideful, and because _one good dance_ isn’t enough for him to deserve any of your attention.

 

He won the competition but he can’t sing very strongly and _you need a group of singers_ and he’ll probably get eliminated anyway. You don’t want to focus on him unless you have to.

 

Not too long afterwards, you are bathed in the bittersweet taste of being right. Hyun Seung and little Seung Hyun have both been eliminated, _with a 10% chance of getting back in_ , and you force yourself into a numb stupor for a while before you can walk away from everyone and let the reality of the situation crash down on you.

 

Hyun Seung didn’t deserve to get cut; he was a real artist, he felt music more strongly than Seung Hyun ever did. Seung Hyun was an innocent kid trying to work his way up in a world he didn’t fit in and that’s what always bothered you most about him.

 

So when Seung Hyun has to leave, you sit in your room and curl up into a corner with Hyun Seung because you like him, you like him more than you like little Seung Hyun, and you want him to stay for as long as possible. Young Bae accompanies Seung Hyun because he’s kind—he’s a good person, better than you’ll ever be—and you think it’s nice of him.

 

When Hyun Seung leaves, though, everyone makes sure to say goodbye to him. You even cry, because Hyun Seung likes you and you like him and he was going to be like your dongsaeng and _why the hell did he have to leave?_

 

It’s unfair, really.

 

Hyun Seung and Seung Hyun were eliminated at the same time, like they were on the same level, and you truly hate that. They were not equals, were never equals, will never be equals. Hyun Seung had wanted this opportunity for _years_ ; Seung Hyun got _lucky_.

 

So you stow yourself away for the next two weeks, radiating a melancholy mood while the day go by. You try not to care about what’s going to happen, try not to think about anything but the music and the dance. You try to ignore how Hyun Seung and Seung Hyun reach for that thin rope of hope YG offered them, but you know the two nearly hang themselves with it.

 

And you aren’t any happier two weeks later, when you, Young Bae, big Seung Hyun, and Dae Sung are all ordered to file into the dancing studio to watch Hyun Seung and little Seung Hyun battle it out for a chance they probably won’t get.

 

Hyun Seung goes first and he sings and then he sits next to you and tries to act all charming and you laugh dryly because _this is utterly hopeless_. But it’s fun to see him performing and you nod along with the music and you hate that you’ve gotten attached to him because you already feel yourself missing him and that _sucks_.

 

Then it’s Lee Seung Hyun’s turn. You become serious, everyone does, as the fun mood Hyun Seung’s provided leaks out of the room and—

 

What. The. Hell. Is. Lee Seung Hyun. Doing.

 

You have to laugh at the kid—he’s listing out reasons why he should be picked, telling YG: _“Don’t I fit the image of the maknae best?”_

 

Seriously? It’s stupid. Amusing and slightly charming and strange but _stupid_.

 

You want to say that _no_ , he _doesn’t_ fit the image best, that this isn’t _about_ that, it’s about his _talent_ , but you have to keep your mouth shut because your opinion doesn’t matter here. You are only here to watch, to observe, to laugh—not to dish out criticism.

 

After the gratuitous speech, you listen to him sing and _well_. He’s never sung a _ballad_ before. His voice is so thin, so thin you think it could break at any second, but it doesn’t, and it’s sweet and you _listen_ because his voice is a pleasant sound. You like it.

 

 _Shit_.

 

You’re not supposed to _like it_ but that little seed of admiration that started with the dance competition _weeks_ ago is growing and you’re powerless to stop it because it’s obvious that the kid changed, got better, in just two weeks, and you _do_ admire his talent.

 

Not his talent for dancing or singing—no, not any of that, although he obviously has it. You admire his _unique_ talent, that seemingly belongs only to little Seung Hyun: the talent of constantly exceeding expectations.

 

Because next thing you know, he is _in_. Little Seung Hyun that admires you and likes you so much and grabbed onto the rope of hope YG offered and _did not hang_ —he exceeded the odds and got _in_ and he’s a part of your group and you want to ask _how_ but you don’t because you’re the senior in the business and you have pride.

 

But you _know_.

 

You know that, no matter how you may try to hide it or how you may want to ignore it, you do like Seung Hyun and he exceeded your expectations _again_ by _forcing_ you to recognize his talent and leaving you awestruck with admiration.

 

Even worse: you know that _he_ knows.

 

You know he knows when he suddenly turns around one day and tells everyone that his stage name is _Seung Ri_ and you laugh even though you want to cry at the taunt.


	2. Redamancy

Redamancy

**_the act of_ ** _**loving in return**_

 

You love Seung Ri.

 

It’s not until a few months after BIGBANG’s debut and first concert that you notice it.

 

The arms around his shoulders, the pursuit of kisses, the smiling every time he speaks, the feeding him even if you don’t have to, the holding of hands—all of it. You take notice of what’s been going on between you and Seung Ri and…you’re surprised by it.

 

You’re not exactly sure when it happened. It was gradual, something slowly simmering—like lava in a volcano that you only noticed was even _there_ after it finally _erupted_.

 

And, obviously, the kid is glowing with the attention and, even though you (finally) notice what you’re doing, you don’t stop because why would you? It makes you happy and it makes Seung Ri happy and you _love_ seeing Seung Ri happy and you love _him_.

 

You realize that and that’s okay. He deserves your love and your admiration and you’ll give it to him. You just make sure to be strict with him so he doesn’t start getting a big head—correct him when he’s done something wrong, push him playfully when he’s doing something embarrassing, cover his mouth when he’s saying things that make you want to squeeze his cheeks because you think it’s actually really cute.

 

And you’re content like this.

 

His laughter is contagious and his excitement is a drug and his charm makes you crowd into his personal space, makes Young Bae hug him, makes TOP pet him, makes Dae Sung watch him.

 

_Moths to a flame._

 

For months, you continue like nothing’s weird because nothing _is_ weird. And you take comfort in the fact that your arm fits perfectly around Seung Ri’s shoulders, that you write the group’s songs so you decide what lines Seung Ri sings, that you can hold his hand and he lets you like it’s your right (and you believe it is), that you can pull Seung Ri to your side each night and hold him while you sleep (even if he doesn’t like it).

 

But then Seung Ri starts getting fans and it’s nice that he has fans—it is; it’s truly endearing—but it’s _not_ alright that he’d leave _your_ side to go talk to _them_. Honestly, he doesn’t even _know_ them.

 

Young Bae thinks it’s cute, that it’s a likable quality that Seung Ri has, and he smiles when Seung Ri talks with his fans. “His charm extends even to fans who are strangers to him. It’s good.”

 

And yet you still want to pull Seung Ri away, for some reason. You know that it should be _good_ , that it should be _nice_ , that it makes Seung Ri a wonderful person—but it makes you want to hide him in a basement so no one else can see him because you _aren’t_ a wonderful person.

 

But wow. When did you start getting possessive?

 

It’s easy to ignore the feeling of hiding Seung Ri away but you take your feelings seriously nonetheless so, when Seung Ri comes back into your waiting arms, you wrap them tightly around him and the feelings of possessiveness happily quell because he’s with you again. Like he’s supposed to be.

 

Unfortunately, it isn’t only the fans. It’s just about everybody—even Young Bae, who likes to play with Seung Ri and headlock the kid—and it makes your fingers itch because it doesn’t _feel right_.

 

Still, you like to think you’re pretty damn good at hiding your bad feelings, the ones that smother people and make them run away from you, so you keep those feelings at bay. When you’re interviewed and Seung Ri comes up, you explain that he likes you a lot, that he likes you so much it scares you, and you think it’s true because Seung Ri liked you way before you liked him. He worshiped you, after all.

 

It isn’t enough, though.

 

Too many things, too many people, try to steal Seung Ri’s attention away and you realize that you’re being selfish, greedy for attention you’re just used to having, but by then you can’t help yourself.

 

“Maknae is mine!”

 

Filmed for the Want You concert. You think that’s enough but then it feels too good to say, especially while holding Seung Ri in your arms, hearing him laugh cutely at the declaration, trying to kiss him right afterwards. It rights all of the wrong feelings. So you say it again.

 

“Seung Ri is mine!”

 

Recorded and filmed, _twice_ , for good measure.

 

But you don’t repeat it often, you _can’t_ , because you know how it looks—you know what people are going to think, how the public will react, how YG will shut it down immediately. Part of you knows you should be scared about the consequences of saying that Seung Ri is yours three times in less than one year. The other part is having a celebratory party at finally getting it off your chest, at the fact that Seung Ri did not deny it.

 

However, what really warms your heart more than anything is receiving a poster from a fan with _Nyongtory_ written in bright, bold colors, because _they_ love you and Seung Ri as much as _you_ love you and Seung Ri. You realize, as you look up _Nyongtory_ later that day, that a _lot_ of people love the both of you, together, and it’s satisfying.

 

Maybe it’s a little creepy, and kind of awkward, but definitely satisfying.

 

You tell Seung Ri about the poster, which has a spot in your room now, and about the stories you’ve read online, and he laughs _adorably_. You hug him, dragging him down into bed, and he’s still laughing in your arms, looking at you like you’re the most perfect person on the planet. And you tell him you love him.

 

You _love_ Seung Ri.


	3. Abience

Abience

**_an urge to avoid a situation_ ** _or an object_

 

Seung Ri starts pulling away from you.

 

He begins flinching when you hug him, like you’re a disease; he begins letting go of your hand, like you’re a parasite; he even creates literal space between the two of you, and you’re left trying to pull him back because you thought you had established that Seung Ri was yours for as long as he still had breath in his lungs.

 

But then one day he’s suddenly talking on national television about how he let go of your hand once because people thought you were together—and it _hurts_ you because you don’t understand why any of this is wrong.

 

He even has a girlfriend—a _girlfriend_.

 

He was the one that loved you first; he should be enjoying the fact that you love him, not pulling away. It makes no sense and you don’t understand but it’s not like that stops you.

 

You aren’t the type to hide, to beat around the bush and ignore a situation, so you talk to him one night. He’s at the computer in your room and you watch him, like you always do, cross-legged on the bed, and you decide that now’s a good a time as ever.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Your statement’s blunt on purpose.

 

Seung Ri hesitates to answer, tenses a bit, and that bothers you because Seung Ri _never_ hesitates to talk about _anything_. “Nothing. Why would something be wrong?”

 

You roll your eyes and Seung Ri can’t see you but you’re sure he can feel it. “You told the MC that our relationship was one-sided. I assume that means there’s something wrong because, last I remember, you loved me.”

 

 _Loved_. Past tense. The word tastes bitter on your tongue; it’s totally, totally _wrong_.

 

But your words are harsh in a way that seems to get Seung Ri’s attention—something you always want, something you revel in—and he turns to face you, eyes downcast. “I still love you, hyung.”

 

You raise an eyebrow at him, even as your chest thrums with the confession. It’s not really what you want; you don’t want him to say it, you want him to _show_ it. You want him close to you. “Oh? Then why did you say that it was a one-sided love?”

 

And what you want to make him understand is how much that angered and hurt you. You want to make him understand that hearing ‘one-sided love’ made your stomach twist and drop and you couldn’t eat for the rest of the day. But you can’t make him understand all of that without making yourself vulnerable and you don’t feel like humiliating yourself further.

 

“I explained, right?” he asks you, and you glare at him. He frowns. “There were people…that thought we were together. We’re not a couple. We shouldn’t give them the wrong idea.”

 

You aren’t sure if it’s just your imagination, but you think you can feel your heart being cut up into little pieces at that. Like Seung Ri is holding your heart hostage—starving it, torturing it, killing it.

 

_Not a couple._

 

You study Seung Ri’s face and his eyelids flutter and his mouth is in a thin line and you still love him, even though he’s putting you through a hurricane of emotions. And you can’t help but feel angry at the people who made Seung Ri question _Ji Yong and Seung Ri_ , something they will _never figure out_.

 

“Who cares what other people think? We don’t live for them.” You’re muttering and you can sense that Seung Ri is starting to get nervous because he knows you’re angry.

 

And Seung Ri tries to fix his mistake—like he tries to fix his choreography, like he tries to fix his voice pitch—but, this time, he just makes everything worse. “I just need a little space. I need to think, okay? I love you too much, hyung.”

 

Because after the first sentence, you virtually stop listening. Your head is assaulted with a steady flow of _you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine, you can’t have space, you’re mine_.

 

You walk out of your room before you say something stupid, something that pushes the two of you further apart, and you leave the dorm. You walk outside for a while, having no particular destination, until you have cleared your head.

 

Until the thoughts— _you’re mine, Seung Ri, you never denied it, you can’t go back now_ —have dissipated and you can trust yourself around Seung Ri again.

 

Any other night, you’d go to a club. Maybe pick up a girl to distract you.

 

Tomorrow, however, you have a full schedule and you can’t indulge yourself. You have to go back to the dorm, back to your room—and Seung Ri isn’t there, _isn’t there_. That hurts, too, but you have to go to sleep.

 

You force yourself not to think about Seung Ri, which proves to be frustratingly difficult, and you sleep dreamlessly. You wake up and you want to scream and yell but you just pull a hat over your head, sunglasses over your eyes, and continue with your day because you don’t have the time or the energy to deal with emotions you apparently _aren’t supposed to have_.

 

Even if you wanted to deal with it, how would  you? You’re an artist—you’re supposed to have _all_ emotions. The idea of one being _taboo_ pisses you off and you decide it’s better to ignore it. Ignore everything.

 

And for all your talk of being a sadist, of enjoying how you bother people, of being something of a bully to your dongsaengs, you are actually more of a masochist.

 

Emotionally, at least.

 

Because the moment the opportunity arises, you decide to share an apartment with Seung Ri—just you and Seung Ri. And you make yourself suffer when he comes back late and you fall asleep on Tom and Laura by yourself, when you watch him get dressed to see his girlfriend and you want to hate him but you can’t, when you hear the shower running and you get the inexplicable urge to steal his clothing and towel so he has to come out naked or ask for your help.

 

You don’t know why you listen when Seung Ri says, “I love you.”

 

Honestly, you don’t know why you listen when he says anything because most of what he says is either embarrassing or embellished and yet people love it.

 

You love it, too. You love _him_. And you tell him.

 

You tell him by buying things for him, by attaching yourself to his side when he’s watching a drama on the television, by throwing an arm over his shoulder in photoshoots, by kissing his cheek and watching him laugh and squirm.

 

When you actually speak the words, it’s at night—somewhere around two in the morning—and you wake up from your sleep and Seung Ri is lying beside you and you can trace a finger over his lips as he sleeps. That’s when you say it out loud, that you love him more than you probably should, and you smile as you watch him because he makes you want to take care of him, even when he’s asleep. It scares you how much you care about him because he is _so precious to you_. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want to let go of him.

 

But the words you speak at night die in the morning when you both wake up and he’s still flinching when you hug him.

 

You try to hide how much it hurts.


	4. Fanaa

Fanaa  (Urdu | Arabic)

**_destruction of the self ; “destroyed in love”_ **

 

You meet Kiko Mizuhara by chance.

 

She’s an American model. She’s pretty and charming and she has a radiant smile, with pearly white teeth and soft-looking lips, and she makes you laugh—a lot. Her hair is short when you meet her, colored an earthy shade of brown; her skin is flawless, utterly unblemished; her eyes sparkle if the light hits her just right and you like that.

 

 _Perfect_.

 

Two weeks later, you’re dating her in secret because you are still a celebrity and you can’t just go around dating people in public or you will have less of a private life than the one you already lack.

 

But she’s like a butterfly. You try to catch her, to keep up with her, and yet you can’t.

 

You start to wonder if you have a thing for the unattainable, if you’re going through a stage of self-destruction, and you eventually decide that you don’t really care. You like her and you try to have a little goddamn fun in your life before you drop dead because pining after people in a relationship simply doesn’t suit you.

 

And when you tell the guys about her a month later, because secrets are hard to keep when you work so closely and they should know, you notice that Seung Ri keeps a pleasant smile on his face and he continues to joke as he usually would.

 

You aren’t going to kid yourself—that disappointed you immensely.

 

But then you realize that the late nights home get much worse and Seung Ri starts flirting a lot more and you ask him about it because Seung Ri _has a girlfriend_ , as much as you dislike it, and infidelity doesn’t seem like his cup of cocoa.

 

“We broke up,” he replies matter-of-factly. He’s staring at the television and some girl’s crying on it and perhaps it wasn’t the best time to ask but you try not to care about his feelings.

 

It’s only fair, since he broke yours.

 

Sadly, isn’t a particularly big surprise when you notice that things start going downhill with you and Kiko. She likes to be uninhibited and free, which you enjoy, but it’s too much when she’s in another country and she says she’s _just fine_. It’s too much when you text her and it takes hours for her to text back. It’s too much because she reminds you of someone who you hardly even _see_ these days.

 

Then people start to get suspicious and the internet is flooded with ideas about _Kiko and G-Dragon_ and you can’t keep seeing her—she says she’s not ready to be the _girlfriend of G-Dragon_ , to be swarmed by the contempt of people who want to be in her place, that her career is at stake.

 

And that’s when you truly begin to hate people who you have never even met because this is the second relationship they’ve screwed up for you.

 

So you break up.

 

You’ve got a broken heart and great lyrics and you’re getting ready for your first solo album but you are so fucking lonely and tired and _annoyed_ that you don’t even have the energy to be excited.

 

It isn’t right, how much you still miss Seung Ri, how much you miss sleeping beside him as he prances off to do his musical with Dae Sung, and you decide that the only way to be in a relationship in which your feelings are fully requited is by getting a dog.

 

Gaho.

 

You play with the puppy whenever you can, buying him lots of toys and healthy food, taking care of him like you want to because the Gaho would never say _no, we should give each other space_.

 

After a week, you think you’ve spoiled the poor puppy rotten. Good.

 

You spend a little less time with him when you start getting followed by a camera, when you start getting ready for _Heartbreaker_ , but you play with him between the trips to and fro, between the hectic life you lead. You play with him and tell the camera that Seung Ri hardly comes home in time to sleep together, and maybe that’s too much information, but you almost want Seung Ri to feel guilty.

 

It’s petty and you don’t mind because you’ve always known you weren’t a good person. You’re selfish and crazy and lonely and you really want Seung Ri to stop being so weird and just let you love him.

 

People start telling you, as you get your make-up done for the _Heartbreaker_ MV, that there are rumors about you and Seung Ri and you try not to sound too sad when you say that you’re just an outcast. You try to stop the fall of your heart to the ground when Seung Ri doesn’t show up for the music video filming, even when you showed up for his—for _Strong Baby_. You try but you don’t really succeed.

 

Days later, when you’re getting ready to go to your birthday/celebration party, Seung Ri actually arrives and you don’t know what to do because you guys seem to have an unspoken pact but you’re selfish, remember? So you pull him close to you in the car and you joke with him and he seems so much more…himself. He seems more like the Seung Ri you came to admire three years ago—laughing and letting you hold him and _this is a good birthday_. So far.

 

You get out of the car and you meet two fans on the street and you’re happy, so you speak to them, and they ask you about Seung Ri. For a brief moment, you wonder if fans are secretly spies or if they are just psychics because the girls ask questions that make your heart ache a little.

 

“When are you going to have your birthday party?”

 

You nod. “We’re going there now.”

 

“Are all the BIGBANG members split up into two people per dorm?”

 

The girls look excited and it’s kind of funny because you were never as sociable as Seung Ri, but you suddenly want to tell them things. “Ah, no. Only Seung Ri and I live together.” You pause for the effect. “Because Seung Ri is my soul mate.”

 

You laugh but the girls seem stunned by your revelation and you want to laugh more but you have to go.

 

As you move to leave, they ask, “Seung Ri has a musical performance at eight, though! Will he be able to go to the party?”

 

You smile sadly as you move to enter yet _another_ car. Seung Ri’s in the car behind you and you think of him, probably texting a noona on his phone. “Yes. If he doesn’t show up, I’ll feel really uncomfortable. But if he doesn’t come, I’ll kiss him all over his body to tickle him!”

 

And then the car speeds off and you take a little pleasure in confusing the living daylights out of innocent fangirls. Well, the word innocent is used rather loosely, but you like most of the fangirls nonetheless.

 

When you and Seung Ri arrive at the place where the party is being held, you wait for him to get out of his car and you hold his hand and you watch him smile because you missed that. You missed Seung Ri _so much_.

 

But the night rolls in and suddenly Seung Ri has to go because of his _musical_ and you want to bite him but you refrain. You’ll get him back later.

 

And you do. He comes back home late that night and you were in no mood to sleep, so he walks in and sees you on the couch, aimlessly clicking through the television channels and you ignore him as he leaves his shoes in the foyer and sits beside you.

 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him look at you and then he puts his head on your shoulder and you shrug it off because you aren’t in the mood.

 

But Seung Ri doesn’t give up and he wraps his arms around your middle and rests his head in your lap and you want to push him away, yell at him, possibly torment him as you promised the fangirls that you would. Instead, you let your fingers card through his hair and, after a moment, he shifts to look up at you and you look down at him.

 

And he’s smiling, the little shit.

 

“Don’t be angry at me, okay? Don’t be angry, hyung.”

 

You tighten your fingers in his hair and glare down at him. “And why would I listen to you? You’re a kid. Stop smiling.”

 

Seung Ri’s grin only gets wider, however, and he leans up to peck you lightly on the lips. You peer down at him, surprised, and Seung Ri shrugs. “Birthday present.”

 

Suddenly, you feel really selfish. “You owe me more than that, maknae.”

 

“Ah, hyung! What do you want me to do?” He’s whining. You hate it when he whines.

 

“Shut up. Kiss me again.”

 

Seung Ri giggles and you smile, faintly, because Seung Ri is in your lap, giggling, and your heart hurts just looking at him.

 

“So cute, hyung.”

 

You’re about to retort—or demand the kiss you deserve, or maybe both—but then Seung Ri is leaning up again and kissing you, just superficially. You can fix that.

 

Hand still in his hair, holding him against you, you twist his head to the side and your tongue sneaks out to play. You feel his lips against your tongue, soft and pliant, and you trace the shape of his lips, grinning when you get to the curves at the end of his mouth and Seung Ri lets out a little sound—not quite a whine, not quite a groan.

 

And you’re about to continue, although you honestly wouldn’t know where to begin, but then Seung Ri pushes against you to create _space_ and sits up, the back of his hand wiping at his mouth.

 

“You should work on your kissing skills,” you blurt out because, frankly, you were doing most of the work there. “Next time I kiss you, you better be an active participant.”

 

Seung Ri tenses for a second and then laughs and falls back into your lap. “Okay, hyung. I’ll work on it.”

 

You watch him as he continues laughing and you realize that Seung Ri responds so much better to you when you’re being cruel. Like he feels more comfortable when he thinks there isn’t as much emotion involved, when he thinks it’s fanservice. You remember the words that hurt you— _I just need a little space_ —and the words that followed— _I love you too much_ —and you want to punch him but you refrain.

 

“I love you, Seung Ri.”

 

He looks up at you and the smile on his face falters. “You love me? Love me more.”

 

You don’t want to read into that too much, because disappointment is still fresh at the back of your mind, but you can’t stop yourself from studying Seung Ri’s face and seeing a little hope there—like he’s saying something that he knows he shouldn’t say, something he fears makes him vulnerable.

 

“Love you more? You’re the one who doesn’t love me enough. I should be asking that of _you_.”

 

Seung Ri chuckles and turns so that his face is buried in your stomach and when he breathes you feel him against your skin and, _holy crap, these are new feelings_.

 

You feel Seung Ri curl up against you and his smile is warm against your shirt. “Love me no matter what, hyung?”

 

“Why do you keep saying that? Why?”

 

There is a pause. “Because sometimes I _can’t_ love you enough, because I love you more than I want to. Because I get scared of _us_.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” you whisper, but you keep stroking Seung Ri’s hair and you sit there for a while just thinking about how you could possibly love Seung Ri more, about what he means when he says he loves you more than he wants to. It takes you a while to realize Seung Ri is sound asleep in your lap but, when you do, you smile.

 

And then you fall asleep with him.


	5. Accismus

Accismus

_a form of irony **wherein a person pretends not to want an object they truly desire**_

 

Seung Ri is naked.

 

His head is tilted back, hands held together and above him in shiny, heavy chains. There is a black blindfold over his eyes and a black studded collar around his neck—tight, probably making it hard for him to breathe—and you’re fucking him. Your hands are on his hips, fingers digging into his skin deep enough to leave bruises, and you’re _smiling_ as you fuck him because he’s too pretty.

 

He’s too pretty like this, arching back into your thrusts and writhing under your hands, and you want to keep him like this forever. You like seeing him so lost, groaning and panting your name like it’s the only name he knows; you like seeing your cock get swallowed by his pretty pink hole, feeling the muscles of his as clamp around you, making you want to break him in two.

 

Everything about Seung Ri is too pretty in your eyes, even as you’re thrusting into him and he’s pushing back to meet you, to take all of it, like the sex-addicted whore he is, so you thrust harder.

 

“Ji Yong, Ji Yong, Ji Yong… _ah_ …”

 

And he punctuates each thrust with your name, or with a moan, his mouth moving with the sounds, his voice just as thin and smooth as when he sings, and you desperately want to shove something—anything, really, but preferably a large phallic object—into his mouth to keep it from distracting you.

 

But it keeps distracting you anyway, pretty as it is, like the rest of him, so you watch it open and close and _curve_ as you fuck him harder— _faster_. Seung Ri’s cock is bobbing with the force of your thrusts and leaking precome and this is so _perverted_ , but you think it’s worth it to see Seung Ri like this. Seung Ri is always worth it and the stretch and clench of his walls around you prove your point.

 

And then there’s ringing in your ears. Why the hell is there ringing in your ears?

 

Your vision goes dark and you’re blinking your eyes open, slowly. The real world falls on you like a ton of bricks and you groan lightly because that was a _damn good dream_ (even if you’re being a bit delusional and pretending it’s utterly normal to dream about a fellow group mate in the first place).

 

But then everything kind of attacks you at once—your cell phone ringing, Seung Ri still in your lap, the digital clock above the television glaring at you with its taunting _5:43_. You’ve only slept like three hours and you think about indulging yourself and going back to sleep, but Seung Ri is shifting like he’s about to wake up (always such a light sleeper), and that would not be good because your dream has left you kind of, you know, _hard_.

 

So you pick up the phone and try to make your voice sound less like it’s been dipped in a fountain of sleep and dream sex and more like it’s totally awake and ready to do its job. “Yeah? Hello?”

 

“Hey, Ji? Are you up? You know the cameramen and crew are going to be at your place in about an hour, right? Get up.” Young Bae sounds concerned on the other line, despite the strict tone of his voice, and you love your friend, you really do, because where the heck would you be without him?

 

You regretfully push Seung Ri’s head out of your lap and move him into a comfortable position on the couch before you walk around the darkened apartment, trying not to bump into things. “Well, _now_ I’m awake. Thanks for calling.”

 

“You looked upset last night,” Young Bae says, slipping back into his normal ‘friend’ tone. “I wanted to make sure you got a warning before cameras started being shoved in your face.”

 

“Right.” And the word feels terribly _wrong_. “I’m good now, so don’t worry about me.”

Young Bae chuckles and brief goodbyes are exchanged before you hang up the phone and decide that you need to take a shower before you wake Seung Ri up.

 

The water is warm and you let it fall into your hair and over your eyes, mind flashing back to the dream you had, and you shake your head to clear your thoughts. You think, instead, of your album and your work and your responsibilities because you need to whip yourself back into shape. Also, you need to stop thinking about whips.

 

Seung Ri makes you lose control and you need to get that control back. Fast.

 

When you get out of the shower, you leave in only a towel, rummaging through the closet in the bedroom to find something suitable to wear and by the time you get back to the couch where Seung Ri is still sleeping soundly, the clock reads a bright and bothersome _6:29_.

 

You wake him up quickly, trying not to touch him because touch is hardly necessary to wake Seung Ri up and you’d rather avoid touching him if you can—and, wow, that’s probably the first time you’ve ever had _that_ thought.

 

But Seung Ri wakes up in just two minutes and you tell him to get out because not only does he have rehearsal for the next day of his musical in about two hours, but the cameras are going to start flooding around _both_ of you in less than thirty minutes. He smiles sleepily at you even as you tell him this and you ignore the part of your mind that remembers the dream and you smile back. But you still practically push him out the door because you’re _you_ and you have things to do—things that do _not_ involve staring at human pandas, even if they’re adorable (and they are).

 

You hardly have time to think, however, because then you’re back on schedule and you’re shooting more music videos and more make-up is being carved into your face—well, that’s what it feels like—and you like the stage, but you like sleep _more_ , and you haven’t had a lot of that.

 

Days pass and Seung Ri is due to come back home soon but he’s not with you yet and you have mixed feelings about that. He texts you and calls you and you ignore them, partially because you keep having explicit dreams about him and partially because you’re still thinking about what he said on your birthday.

 

_I get scared of **us**._

 

You don’t know what that means—or maybe you do and you’re just in denial about what Seung Ri means to say—and you don’t want to talk about it. Either way, you promote your album with a smile that’s mostly forced because you love the stage but the lyrics keep reminding you of things you’d rather forget. And the people are cheering and, while you appreciate it, you just want to wrap yourself in blankets and play with Gaho and maybe write more lyrics about people breaking hearts. Lyrics that you’ll never use but that you like keeping anyway.

 

Soon, you forget about all that vulnerability, all that sadness, when you’re accused of plagiarism and you feel like _tearing the world apart_.

 

You wrote the lyrics to _Heartbreaker_ with the blood of your broken heart, composed it to the sound of your lonely, angry nights, and sung it while trying not to think of everyone who had ever shattered your soul to pieces—and they want to accuse you of _plagiarism?_

 

And you remember what hating people, strangers, feels like again because they keep _killing_ everything you hold dear. Now your first solo album is basically worthless.

 

Unfortunately, Seung Ri is there the day you’re told that you have to stop promoting the song, the night you go completely crazy with the accusation. He holds you and you don’t want to be held because you’re angry—you’re fucking _livid_ —not _sad_.

 

He tells you that everything is going to be okay anyway, even as you push and mumble that he should stop being so idiotic because you’re just fucking _fine_. But you feel his hands stroking at your back, trying to calm you down, and you don’t know where the stupid tears come from, but they’re suddenly there. Seung Ri is there, too, and you cocoon yourself in him, in his arms, because you _miss_ this and you want there to be something that people can’t take away from you.

 

You want something that’s just yours, yours forever, so _badly_.

 

But then Young Bae calls—he’s heard the news—and you untangle yourself from Seung Ri and tell him to go to sleep and he looks at you with these _eyes_ but you shoo him off anyway, hiding from your moment of weakness.

 

As he leaves, going into your shared bedroom, you collapse on the couch and whisper to Young Bae because he’s been your friend for years and you need _someone_. “I can’t believe this.”

 

Young Bae’s voice is soft too, like he understands how far away you are from the world right now, and he probably does. “Ji, it’s going to be okay. Don’t beat yourself up.”

 

“Seung Ri said that, too,” you half-sob, half-speak, and _God_ —you hate the way you sound. You curl into the corner of the couch, pillow in your lap, phone cold against your ear, and you hate this so much. “He said everything was going to be okay. I hope you both realize how empty that sounds when you’re in my position.”

 

“You can’t let this get to you; this is going to be one of many obstacles,” Young Bae tells you. And he has a point—a depressing point, but a point nonetheless. You knew what you were getting into when you became a part of the industry, you knew and you welcomed it. “If you keep letting them get to you, they’ll feel powerful. They’ll win.”

 

_Win. Victory._

 

You cry into the phone and you feel so stupidly _weak_ and you don’t know how long you sit there crying before you tell Young Bae you want to sleep. He’s your friend, so he knows you’re lying. You just want to be alone. But he lets you, because he’s a good person—always a good person—and you hang up the phone, throwing it to the side, and you sit quietly. In the dark. Because it feels right.

 

Still, you know that Seung Ri’s in the bedroom, waiting for you to come back into his arms. You don’t want to go back. You hate letting him see you like that.

 

He’s always looked up to you, always admired you, and you _cannot_ …

 

You just can’t let him see you like this.

 

And then your phone alerts you that you have a text and you don’t want to read it, you don’t want to do anything right now, but you reach for your phone anyway and it’s a message from TOP-hyung.

 

_You’ll get through this. You’re strong. Just don’t cry when Seung Ri isn’t there._

 

And then Dae Sung, precious boy that he is, is spamming you with dozens of endearing texts telling you to _calm down, eat well, sleep soundly_ , and you don’t know what to do with the comfort that everyone’s offering you.

 

Most of all, you don’t know what to do with the person, who’s probably _not_ sleeping like you told him to, on your bed.

 

With Tom and Laura.

 

You move to get up and you walk towards the bedroom, towards your temptation, and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with the seam of the comforter, as cute as ever. That bothers you _immensely_.

 

He knows you’re there and you know he knows you’re there and everything’s really fucking complicated, but you have a habit of making complicated things worse. You have a habit of screwing up. You have a habit of pining for things you can’t have. You have a habit of being greedy. You have a habit of smoking. You have a habit of getting drunk often. You have a lot of habits—all bad ones.

 

Seung Ri is one of them.

 

So you kneel between his legs and you look up at him. His eyes meet yours and, even though the room in saturated in darkness, his eyes still manage to sparkle and you think that that’s so _unreasonable_. The both of you watch each other for a while, kind of unsure of yourselves, and then you’re leaning up and _in_ to claim his mouth like it’s rightfully yours—probably because, at the moment, you think it _is_.

 

He pulls back from you quickly, trying to stay upright on the bed. “Hyung…”

 

And he wants to stop but you’re not having that. You’re tired of letting him push and pull away whenever the hell he wants to, whenever he feels like pretending he doesn’t love you.

 

“You love me, I know you do, so stop running away.”

 

You push him back and you wrap your arms around his waist—and you happily think that his body is really made to fit against yours—while you lay on top of him, between his legs. You suck and bite at his neck, careful about making hickeys that the make-up noonas will notice, and Seung Ri isn’t talking or groaning or _breathing_ , but you take that as a compliment.

 

Then your hands become adventurous and you slide them down, between the two of you, to the buckle of his belt, pulling at it until you can open Seung Ri’s pants and you feel Seung Ri’s hands start threading through your hair and you _like_ that.

 

Smirking, leaning over him, you palm him through his jeans, stroking against the length that you feel hardening, and he impulsively ruts up to get more friction—to feel more of you—but you don’t let him and he groans.

 

Your smirk widens.

 

“Look at me, Seung Ri.” He doesn’t listen and bucks up into your hand again. You take your hand away and the smirk falls away from your face. “I said _look at me_.”

 

He looks up at you then, eyes lust-laden and so _sweet_ , and you feel high—high on your power over him, on the way he flushes under you, on the way he wants to bite back the noises he’s inclined to make. You watch him as you reach into his pants, past his boxers, and his hands press into your shoulder when you form a loose ring with your fingers and thumb around his cock.

 

You stroke him loosely, not quite letting him get what he wants, and he whines—you know he’s frustrated because you’re teasing him and you laugh. But you stroke harder, thumbing the slit at the head, and Seung Ri arches up into you beautifully with a groan, and you feel his chest against yours, even with the clothes still separating you (and you have to keep the clothes on because otherwise you might do something even more dangerous than what you’re doing now).

 

It’s addicting, the control you have over the man under you. How he desperately wants to look away from your eyes but how he’s forcing himself to stay put because you _want_ him to. Like anything you want is something he’s willing to give.

 

You missed that control, the control Seung Ri let you have when you were both younger. And now you crave it.

 

So you grow bolder and you slip the hand on Seung Ri’s cock down, lower, and Seung Ri is moaning in protest but you kiss him to shut him up. And it’s nice, kissing him, because his lips are really soft and his mouth is hot and wet against yours when you coax it open with your tongue. Best of all, kissing him like this means you can swallow the sound he makes when your fingers press against his entrance—that pretty pink hole you’re denying yourself because _it’ll be too much_.

 

He’s breathless when you pull away and yet he still seeks out your lips, seeks the heat of your mouth, but you rub your fingers against his tight ring of muscle in a circle, continuously, and he falls, boneless, back onto the bed.

 

The smirk returns to your lips.

 

But Seung Ri is a fast learner, and he’s not one to be overwhelmed for long before he starts _doing_ things. So he reaches down and you groan into his neck when you feel him squeeze you through your pants because _God_ , that feels good, would feel better _inside_ _of him_.

 

You grab his hand, stilling it, glaring down at him, and he smirks right back up at you. Arrogant brat.

 

You argue with yourself for a minute about what to do before you take his hand away and you take your hand out of his pants. He looks confused but you ignore that and hold yourself up over him, grinding down on his hips, the both of you drowning out each other’s moans. He arches up to meet you, grinds up into you, and you like how smoothly he rolls his hips, how great it feels against you.

 

It’s rough and rushed and sweaty, not to mention completely filthy. It’s shameless rubbing and grinding, the room is filled with dirty moaning, and Seung Ri’s voice will be the end of you.

 

But, by the end, you’ve both come in your pants and you’re coming down from the high and the world is still dark and heavy around you and you roll off of him, laying down on the bed. Seung Ri sits up, looking at the floor for a moment before standing and muttering about taking a shower.

 

You let him walk away, studying him as he grabs a few clothes from the closet and leaves the room. A minute later, you hear the shower running. You smile at the ceiling and think about stealing his clothes, _again_ , and you roll over to where he was laying, next to you, and you smell him. He wears good cologne; it’s a scent that reminds you distinctly of _him_.

 

After the shower, Seung Ri enters the room timidly and, by then, you’re sitting at your desk, writing lyrics lit up under the glow of the computer, lyrics that just popped into your mind, as they tend to do when you spend time with Seung Ri.

 

Lyrics you probably won’t use for months or years.

 

He lays on the bed, on the _Laura_ side of the bed, and you try to focus on the paper in front of you even as you feel his eyes on the back of your head. He falls asleep like that and it’s about two in the morning when you finally finish the lyrics and look back at him. He’s so calm and quiet when he sleeps.

 

Absently, you wonder where that quiet goes when he’s awake.

 

You crawl into bed with him, happy about something, _someone_ , at least. You dream of chains and whips and blindfolds, of dungeons and metal bars and collars, and it feels weird, lonely, when you wake up in the morning and Seung Ri’s gone.


	6. Infrangible

Infrangible

**_incapable of being broken or separated_ ** _; inviolable_

 

You don’t let Seung Ri go.

 

Well, more accurately: you _can’t_.

 

There’s a part of you that feels like you’re being too clingy and maybe just a little bit undignified, and your ego is definitely hurt, but you work with it. You have to because Seung Ri still makes you smile during interviews, even if the smile is a little sad, and because Seung Ri still comes back to you every night and lets you pull him close to you, even if he is scared of… _whatever_.

 

So you resolve to have enough courage for the both of you because Seung Ri is _your_ maknae, your precious and irreplaceable maknae, and he will _always_ be yours, no matter what anyone says—and you know how to take care of your things.

 

Granted, that thought is all kinds of messed up, but you can’t help it. Seung Ri simultaneously brings out the best and worst of you.

 

You think you handle your compulsions rather well, actually.

 

But then Seung Ri leaves again when he starts filming for the movie _Nineteen_ with TOP-hyung and you get frustrated because that just isn’t _fair_.

 

_You’re_ the one who loves him the most, _you’re_ the one who takes care of him the most, _you’re_ the one that lives with him, and he’s off doing some movie with TOP-hyung. Not that you dislike TOP-hyung. It’s not that. You just want to keep Seung Ri around _you_. You just hate thinking that he enjoys spending time with someone who _isn’t_ you.

 

And you call him a few times (you want to call him more often but you manage to restrain yourself with the single ounce of pride you have left). And he sounds happy. Which is great—you’re happy that he’s happy.

 

You just spend two hours tossing and turning each night wondering _why_ he’s happy. You just wake up on the wrong side of the bed _every_ morning because it doesn’t feel right without having Seung Ri beside you. You just sit on the couch for hours on end, eating like a pig and glaring at the television with your phone right beside you (where Seung Ri _should_ be) in case Seung Ri calls or texts.

 

You feel pathetic.

 

So to take your mind off of _things_ , you write and compose and you spend a lot of time with Dae Sung and Young Bae. You think that you’re probably starting to suffocate them, too.

 

“You okay?” Young Bae asks one night. “The call was a bit sudden.”

 

He’s sitting on your couch, sharing some takeout food with you because you asked him to spend the night over, and you’re both staring at a variety show playing out on television. Well, you _were_ staring at it. Now you’re staring at each other.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say.

 

And you _are_ fine. You’re just bordering on the insane and you hate yourself for loving someone who’s apparently too scared to love you, unless it’s _fanservice_ or in secret, because he actually cares about _people_ , and you sometimes feel the urge to both fuck and maim him. But you’re fine.

 

Young Bae gives you a look that freaks you out, because it’s like he just read your mind, but then he ruffles your hair, which makes you scowl, and turns back to the television. “You know, we’ve been your friends for years, Ji. Me especially.”

 

You give a half-hearted shrug. “Yeah, so?”

 

He smiles. “We can all tell when you and Seung Ri are having a lover’s quarrel.”

 

And you don’t speak after that. You simply continue watching the variety show, then the drama that comes right after, and then there’s a movie you guys decide to watch.

 

Eventually, you both fall asleep on the couch and, when you wake up the next morning, you feel like you need to do _something_. You’ve been floating around in a sea of laziness and yearning and that _really_ isn’t like you.

 

Two weeks later, Seung Ri is back (a fact which has made you 40% happier) and another year has just started (which makes you 15% angrier for some reason) but you’re talking with YG on the phone about collaborations and compositions and he says he’ll get back to you but you can tell he’s interested in your ideas (which is really what ricochets you up into the skies of happiness).

 

You’ve been itching to start putting your lyrics and compositions to work, itching to come back to the stage and write chart toppers—not for the fame, but to spite the _people_ that have been destroying you.

 

And sometimes Seung Ri sits beside you as you write, watching the pen move against your notebook, watching you write ~~and cross out~~ and write. You don’t hide it from him because he’s going to hear the lyrics anyway and, frankly, you hope he _does_ hear them. A lot of them are meant for him.

 

One day you catch Seung Ri staring at a page that he wasn’t really supposed to see, though—a page filled with words of secrets you disguise as art—and you want to snatch the book away from him but, instead, you just stand there and wait for his reaction.

 

“Obsession,” he says aloud, which makes you cringe a bit because— _hello_ —your heart is being totally exposed here.

 

But you simply nod at him, cautiously sitting next to him on the bed because he has a habit of running from you when you least want him to and you can’t afford to see him leave right now. “Yeah. You like it? I might rename it. I don’t know.”

 

Seung Ri smiles at you and you want to hate the pretty upturn of his lips at the corners of his mouth but you don’t—you can’t. He’s too charming to hate.

 

“I like it,” he whispers. And then he hands you the notebook, leaning his head on your shoulder, and you want to kiss him.

 

So you do, because little things like sense and reason pretty much get thrown out the window when you’re with Seung Ri and that’s just fine because who needs sense and reason anyway?

 

But it seems like life doesn’t want you to enjoy much of anything because weeks are just flying by—you all have to go to interviews and photoshoots and variety shows—and then you have to prepare singles for BIGBANG and the music videos need to be shot and you feel a little exhausted but it’s okay.

 

It’s tiring, but you’re all together again and you’re all happy again, and you’ve made it through another grueling freaking year, so it’s okay.

 

Before you know it, you’re collaborating with TOP-hyung on an album and most of the lyrics you’ve wanted to use are coming out—finally—and it’s fun to work with a new style of music, to be with another rapper and make catchy music that stays in your head all damn day until you fall asleep in your bed. It’s fun to work with TOP-hyung because he’s childish and weird, and you’re also childish and weird, and the fans are awaiting your music and knowing that makes you feel downright _extraordinary_.

 

The two of you plan a huge party, a real one, with a bunch of people dancing and drinking, for the music video of _High High_ and the other members are invited, which they are a bit too excited about.

 

And the party ends up being quite hilarious because Seung Ri is evidently a horny stripper when he’s drunk (a fact which you store away in your mind for later usage), Dae Sung gains the confidence of a thousand alpha males when he’s had one too many, and Young Bae hardly even gets drunk but starts dancing with Seung Ri anyway.

 

You and TOP-hyung feel like the parents of rascals, just watching them drink and dance about (sometimes joining them) and singing your parts into the camera, trying not to get too tipsy, because you two are _professionals_.

 

And then you find Seung Ri, because you always find Seung Ri, and he takes a shot of liquor, which makes you smile and take a shot of your own. Then you kiss him on the cheek while the camera’s on you because he’s drunk and happy and you take advantage of that and give the world something to see. It’s not going to make it into the actual music video but you know fans will find it.

 

They always do, the little spies.

 

Suddenly, GD&TOP is on tour and it’s amazing, seeing your fans. You like it, like hearing them cheer your name, because you missed performing like this. You live for the big stages, for singing the lyrics you write, for seeing your name written out on the signs in the crowd, for watching the tiny crown lights wave around when you dance because you are a _king_ and you enjoy it _so much_.

 

You love your work—no, you can’t even really call it _work_. It’s like everyone is asking and paying you to do something that you would have done for free, without prompting, and that’s _awesome_. Getting paid to do what you _love_ is awesome.

 

Later, near the end of the year, you hear that Seung Ri is coming out with a solo album of his own that he has one week to prepare for. You smirk when you hear the news, and it’s a sadistic act because you know Seung Ri must be suffering to get his album out, and you imagine him hunched over a paper and writing out lines of a song. It’s cute.

 

There’s one night, however, that you come home to your shared apartment an hour after midnight, incredibly tired, and Seung Ri is suddenly pushing a phone into your face and mouthing “YG” over and over again. You take the phone and YG is immediately ranting into your ear, telling you to write the rap to one of Seung Ri’s songs because you are the only one available last minute.

 

You want to say, “No, I’m freaking exhausted, it’s almost two in the damn morning, I have to sleep if you want me to keep living.”

 

But you accept, because YG is a stubborn, demanding person and because Seung Ri _needs_ you. YG and Seung Ri think you’re being selfless by accepting but, honestly, you just love it when Seung Ri needs you, mostly because it doesn’t happen often.

 

So you spend five hours in your room, pacing and throwing out papers and writing and testing the lyrics out on your tongue, and then it’s finished and you make your way to the recording studio, where Seung Ri told you to meet him when you were done. He looks ecstatic to see you, and he compliments you on your talent for writing, but the panda eyes on his face are particularly prominent and you worry, for a moment, that he hasn’t gotten enough sleep.

 

You don’t get much of a chance to worry, though, because Seung Ri starts babbling excitedly and then he’s pushing you into the recording booth so you can rap your part. It’s supposed to take about an hour, two hours at most, but then you suddenly end up spending four hours in the recording studio perfecting lyrics and giving him pointers and you haven’t slept in thirty-two hours and you seriously need some shut eye before you collapse.

 

It’s worth it, nonetheless, when Seung Ri’s performing his songs just a few days later and he looks amazing doing so. The songs came out excellent—you listen to _Magic_ every single day—and you can’t help the feeling of pride you get when he wins recognition for his songs because he’s _your maknae_.

 

But fate has a special way of screwing you over. It likes to do that, apparently.

 

When you have to perform with Seung Ri, perform the song you lost sleep for, you end up getting sick _andisn’tthatjustfuckinggreat_. You have a fever—you have to be immediately rushed to the hospital halfway through the rehearsal for _Open the Window_ —and you can’t perform with Seung Ri and you want to apologize ten times over for something you can’t even control.

 

You are instantly reminded of why you hate not being in control.

 

Seung Ri calls, according to your manager, a couple of times, asking about your condition. Mentally and emotionally, you feel fine. Physically, you feel like shit.

 

And you feel like a complete bastard, but you kind of like hearing that Seung Ri is worried about you. You wonder how worried he actually is, how his performance is going to go, and you tell your manager that you want to speak with him but he doesn’t care that you love Seung Ri and need to talk to him. He just wants you to _get better_.

 

Honestly, you sort of feel like knocking him out where he stands because _no_. You’re sick and not in the mood to have people disagreeing with you, but you try to get better anyway because being sick sucks.

 

You do—you get better. You fully recover a few days later and then YG calls all of you up and announces that a new album is due in a month, a tour will start in less than four months, and that in between all of that will be a number of variety show appearances and commercials and photoshoots and interviews.

 

The five of you manage to work it all in around everyone’s hectic schedules and you do what you have to in order to survive (which usually means you eat a lot and don’t sleep enough).

 

Then the disaster in Japan hits just about a month before you have to begin the tour there, which makes you feel like the _luckiest group leader alive_ , and the tour is renamed from “Love & Pain” to “Love & Hope” because the former just sounds like a cheap and insulting joke.

 

Despite the era of sadness and fear that shakes Japan, the _Love & Hope Tour_ does fantastically well, which is something you’re grateful for. Even if you hurt your ankle just before the performances started, having Seung Ri worry over you was worth it; he’s always, _always_ worth it.

 

Getting to watch the whole concert and record commentary on it was fun, too. Seeing Seung Ri perform is fun. And seeing the others as well, of course. But mostly Seung Ri.

 

It’s a beautiful thing, when the tour ends and you have a semi-free schedule and you can just go out to coffee shops and restaurants and spend the nights dancing in clubs. You usually go with Seung Ri. If he asks you to come to a club with him, your answer is always, “Yes.”

 

And it feels incredible, being suspended in this time of serenity and happiness. The last time you felt this good was the year following BIGBANG’s debut. Everything was so amazing back then; you were just becoming recognized, you were performing on the stage, in front of fans you loved, and you felt so _alive_.

 

Also, you were on excellent terms with Seung Ri.

 

Your relationship went through some trial and error, but you feel content with him now, too. You can scoot close to Seung Ri and he lets you, you can put your arms around him and he lets you, you can kiss him and (he’s still iffy about it but) he lets you.

 

You still love him. And he’s letting you.


	7. Friable

Friable

**_easily broken into pieces_ ** _or reduced to nothing_

 

After the high comes the fall.

 

At the end of May, everything starts falling apart. Dae Sung is involved in a car accident, he’s accused of _killing_ someone, and you can’t believe that anyone would put such a burden on your precious dongsaeng. Dae Sung lowers into this horrible depression and you and the others try to comfort him, because you know it isn’t really his fault, because he _didn’t know_ , but he’s pulling away from all of you.

 

God, why does everyone _do_ that?

 

Really, you don’t know if you should scream or cry or maybe write because things had just started getting better and now the world is turning back in on itself and, not long after, you’re tied up in a _marijuana_ scandal and you really can’t believe this is your life sometimes because _what the hell is going on?_

 

YG is the first to know and you’re locked up in his office for a good two hours, listening to him scold you about how you’ve disappointed everyone, how you’ve put the group at risk, how you should have been more careful. You try to explain what happened, but that somehow only makes everything worse. He tells you that you’re reckless, that you are the one that represents the group as the leader, that you have to set the example. You want to run away and hide but you don’t because you’re stronger than that—you have to be.

 

And YG orders all the members back into the dorms they used to share—no more comfortable apartment sharing—and now you have to go back to your members and…

 

You have to explain what happened.

 

TOP-hyung remains expressionless, as he often does. Young Bae doesn’t look at you. Dae Sung locks himself up in his room.

 

Seung Ri is the worst, though. He starts crying against your shoulder and you can feel the tears staining your shirt and you hate this—you hate that Seung Ri’s crying because of you, you hate the person who offered you the marijuana, and you hate yourself for taking it, and you generally just wallow in a cloud of hate as Seung Ri cries into your shoulder.

 

After fifteen minutes of Seung Ri’s non-stop crying, Young Bae starts getting frustrated. He tells Seung Ri to stop crying, that it’s annoying, and TOP-hyung silently agrees.

 

You don’t say anything; you feel like you don’t have the right to make Seung Ri stop crying. This is mostly your fault, after all, and it’s not like you can just tell Seung Ri, “I know that you’re crying because I’ve basically almost ruined our careers, but please stop.”

 

Everyone eventually disperses into their rooms, except for Seung Ri.

 

You’re about to enter your room, probably just to cry, or maybe disappear forever, but you hear him walk to the front door, put on his shoes, and leave. It’s almost ten at night. You know where he’s going.

 

And that makes your stomach fall, thinking about how you’re driving the maknae to intoxicate himself, to bury himself in a _stranger_. You lay awake in your bed thinking about how it hurt to see him cry. How you must have hurt him.

 

How you must have hurt _everyone_.

 

 _Damn it_ —everything had been going so freaking well! You spent an entire year trying to come back from _Heartbreaker_ , an entire year trying to make yourself better and make everything right. And it _was_ right, for like five months, and now it’s shattering apart, shattering into pieces that you’re not sure you can put back together, and you _don’t know what to do_.

 

What are the fans going to think? What’s going to happen to BIGBANG? What if you disband? What the hell is going to happen to you and the others? You and Seung Ri?

 

It’s too much pressure.

 

You’d rather not think about it for a while. You don’t touch your computer because you don’t think you could stand seeing more accusations erupting, and you barely leave your room because, when you see the other member’s faces, you want to kneel to the ground and apologize. Sometimes you eat, if you remember to do so, and you smoke a little more than you used to, just enough to numb your senses, and you can’t even write properly anymore because all you keep thinking about is how you might never get to sing the songs.

 

Everything seems to hurt at some point. You wake up and your shoulder is sore, or you try to go to sleep and your head aches, or you want to eat but your stomach is in knots, and you think you heard once that psychological pain sometimes manifests physically, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

 

You spend a lot of alone time with Dae Sung. It seems like he understands you the most, like he feels the pain you feel, and you are grateful that you aren’t completely alone. You hear him talk about how bad he feels, about _ending his life_ and you hold him because _no, you can’t die_. You cry together sometimes and cook each other food to make sure you don’t starve.

 

It makes the both of you feel better.

 

TOP-hyung calls you at times, but he prefers being with his mom during the crisis, so you don’t see him a lot. When he does call, you talk quietly into the night, like children that are supposed to be asleep but instead stay up with a friend on the phone and would get killed if their parents caught them. You talk about trivial things and he tells you one night that you will make it through, like you make it through all your obstacles. That he’s your hyung and he believes in you. That he loves you very much.

 

You cry that night, too.

 

Young Bae spends his time mostly dancing. It makes him feel high, makes him forget the world around him, and he needs that. You understand. There are times when he comes back to the dorms and you just hug him and he hugs you back and says things like, “It’s okay, Ji.” Or, “We’re going to be fine.”

 

And you believe him because Young Bae hasn’t ever wronged you before, hasn’t wronged _anyone_ before.

 

But it’s days—or maybe weeks; you totally lost track of time in your sudden depression—before you see Seung Ri again and yet, when you do, he’s the one who comes into your room at midnight. You were going to go to sleep, but all traces of exhaustion leave immediately and you straighten and tense because this is _Seung Ri_.

 

Seung Ri, who worshipped you when you were kids. Seung Ri, who made everyone, including and especially you, love him. Seung Ri, who became too scared of people’s opinions to love you openly. Seung Ri, who let you hug and kiss and pleasure him. Seung Ri, who cried for twenty minutes on your shoulder because you’d failed to be a good leader. Seung Ri, who went and got drunk because you disappointed him.

 

_Seung Ri._

 

You swallow the lump in your throat and watch him as he moves to sit beside you on your bed. He’s looking down at his hands and his shirt is all out of place and you really just want to fix it but—but you _can’t_ —you _shouldn’t_ touch him. Not right now, not until he _says_ something.

 

“It was hard for me to get over the…disappointment,” he starts. It’s not what you want to hear, so you look away, and he continues. “It took me a while to get past the anger, to clear my head, but I love you, hyung. You should know that I love you no matter what.”

 

Your eyes are on him in an instant, and your chest begins to hurt because _Seung Ri loves you_ and he looks like he’s about to start crying again but _God_ , you’re so in love with this boy, you could live off the feeling alone.

 

“I love my maknae, too,” you whisper, a soft smile stretching your face oddly.

 

You hadn’t smiled in a while.

 

Seung Ri chuckles, though, and you feel a lot lighter as his laughter grows and he’s giggling against you, leaning on your shoulder again. You peer down at him and he looks up at you, his lips stretched in his adorable little smile and you want to bottle it up. That smile gives you so much energy.

 

He blinks rapidly, as he usually does, and then lays down on your bed. “Let’s sleep together like we used to, hyung.”

 

You debate the offer for about two seconds before you give in and lay beside Seung Ri, the both of you facing each other, and you watch him as his eyelids flutter and his eyes wander. He wants to tell you something, he wants to say things, but he won’t.

 

So you decide to start, instead. “I’m sorry.”

 

And Seung Ri looks at you for a long while, eyes still sparkling ridiculously and mouth still curved just the way you like it, and he moves closer into your personal space. You don’t mind.

 

“I’m sorry, too,” he says. “For constantly running away.”

 

That’s good enough for you, that’s more than enough for tonight, so you wrap your arms protectively around Seung Ri, you cover him with your body, and he still smells like that stupid cologne. He wraps his arms around your waist, hand splayed against your back, and you rub your cheek into his hair. You like this. This is good.

 

Neither of you fall asleep, though. Your minds are both racing and you prefer to whisper throughout the night, small and distant things. Seung Ri talks about his sister and his Legos and you talk about your  sister and your hat collection.

 

The light pours in shortly after dawn and you glance over your back at your clock and it reads _6:02_. Then, suddenly, you really feel like writing.

 

You get up, and Seung Ri protests a bit but you tell him that you have words in your head, and he relaxes. He lays in your bed and you reach for your notebook and pen and you write. You write until Seung Ri gets up and showers and comes back sometime later with a tray of food and he sits beside you, on the floor, eating, and you _don’t stop writing_. You keep going until you look up, finally, about three hours later, and Seung Ri is curled up on your bed again—sleeping.

 

There’s a moment of utter silence and stillness, a moment that you take to just stare at him. You’re not smiling, you’re not frowning, you’re simply staring and watching and memorizing. You think back on your talks last night and you remember your sister. Your family must be worried sick, so you decide to call your parents.

 

It’s hard, hearing your mother cry over the phone. It’s weird, hearing your father choke on his words like he’s tearing up. It makes you feel bad, like you can’t do anything right to save your damn _life_ , and you try not to cry for the nth time. You tell them that you’re doing well and that you’re feeling better, which is a necessary lie because you don’t want them to worry more than they already have. They want to see you for your birthday and you concede because it’s not like you have any other plans.

 

You spend the week before your birthday trying to get the members all into the same room because this whole distance thing feels too much like you’re splitting up (and that hasn’t happened _yet_ ) and, with Young Bae’s help, you manage.

 

Dae Sung is huddled in an armchair. TOP-hyung, Young Bae, and Seung Ri share the couch. You sit on the floor, your back against the seats of the couch, by TOP-hyung’s legs.

 

The television is on and there’s food on the table but nobody’s eating and nobody’s actually watching the stupid show and this feels so wrong. You glance at Young Bae because _he’s_ the mother, he’s better at the comforting thing, and he exchanges a look with you before reaching for the remote and muting the television.

 

“Look,” Young Bae starts, and everybody’s eyes turn to him, “we can’t keep doing this. We can’t let every single thing break us apart. We are stronger than this.”

 

Seung Ri forces a smile. “We are, but only when we’re together. When we aren’t together, we’re weak.”

 

That hurts you a little, and there’s silence for a second while everyone takes in Seung Ri’s words, but Young Bae apparently takes the words as a green light to continue. “All the more reason to stick together. Ji, your birthday is coming up. Are you doing anything?”

 

You shrug. “My parents want to see me. I’m going to visit them.”

 

“Can we go with you?” he asks, and it’s hardly even a question because Young Bae knows damn well that all of them are welcome in your home.

 

“Of course,” you reply anyway. “Mom will be happy to see all of us.”

 

And then it’s settled. The five of you are going to celebrate your birthday by going back to your parent’s home. Until then, you all spend as much time as possible together, making up for the weeks of intense distance.

 

When your birthday does come and the five of you arrive at your parent’s doorstep, your mother’s face lights up. She’s cooked plates of delicious food and baked you a cake and there’s more than enough food for all of you. Even your sister is there and you hug her because she looks at you with a face you can’t understand and you want to see her smile.

 

You want to see them all smile.

 

BIGBANG has always been like a second family to you, has always been there for you, and you love the feeling you get when your family is all together—members included. When they’re laughing for the first time in weeks. When they’re joking around and sharing stories and catching up…

 

You don’t say much, you just enjoy the feeling, because this is the best feeling you’ve had since the scandals broke out. It’s warm and it fills you with hope and it feels like _home_.


	8. Meraki

Meraki  (Greek)

**_doing something with passion and soul ; the essence of yourself that is put into your work_ **

 

Things get better.

 

You are nominated for the Best Worldwide Act at the MTV EMAs and you feel like this should be an honor, and it is, but you don’t think you’re going to win. A great album and two scandals in the same year; you’re not sure which would win out with the fans.

 

You’re not even sure you still _have_ fans.

 

But YG demands you all show your faces at the award ceremony and you can’t say no because, first, you aren’t busy at _all_ , and second, this is like your official punishment—making you go out and face the world even if you don’t feel that you’re ready.

 

So you accept your responsibility and take the long plane ride to Belfast, during which you’re itching with nerves and the rest of the members try (successfully, at least) to distract themselves with music. When you have to split up into pairs for the hotel room, you want to room with Seung Ri. No one is surprised by that—in fact, Young Bae even smiles.

 

“At least we know some things never change,” he says.

 

You like that, you like how the five of you can still smile over the little things, how your relationships haven’t changed; you’ve just grown stronger.

 

You can’t sleep more than two hours the night before the ceremony. Seung Ri is lying beside you but he doesn’t speak and he looks so _small_. You know that he worries too much about what others think of him, even if he tries to ignore it. He wants people to like him, he wants to win over people’s hatred. He definitely doesn’t want to be at an award ceremony after what’s happened. It’ll feel like a blow to his ego if BIGBANG doesn’t win.

 

Seung Ri loves BIGBANG more than anything and all the members know that.

 

But while Seung Ri is a rose-tinted glasses, optimistic kind of guy, you are the dark, sunglasses-wearing, pessimistic kind of guy and you don’t offer any words of encouragement because you wouldn’t mean a word of it and you don’t like lying to Seung Ri. You know he can offer himself those words but, even so, not being able to comfort him irritates you.

 

However, you get a pleasant surprise.

 

When the Best Worldwide Act winner is about to be announced, you sit still and you don’t move and you’re so _tense_ that your body starts to protest—until you hear your group’s name and you’ve _won_ and Young Bae instantly stands, like he’s made for receiving awards.

 

And you think that maybe he is.

 

You all walk to the front of the stage and you thank the fans—you _thank the fans_ —because _you still have them_. They voted for you and you _won_. You’re not even supposed to be speaking Korean, because the ceremony’s coordinators told you to speak in _English_ if you had to speak at all, but you speak in your native tongue because you weren’t _expecting_ this and you didn’t think you’d need to prepare an English speech.

 

It takes you a while to realize the true beauty of the award, though. The fans have stuck with you throughout two horrible scandals and they are still there for you. This makes everyone much happier, raising them from the foul moods they’ve been in—particularly Seung Ri and Dae Sung.

                                                                                                                    

You talk to Young Bae and TOP-hyung a week later and the three of you decide that you want to release another album. You don’t want to give people the satisfaction of seeing you fall, you don’t want the group to break up, and you’re not dead yet—you’re still _alive_.

 

You spend many long nights after that staring at your computer screen, scribbling notes and words and sometimes drawings in your notebook.

 

When Dae Sung and Seung Ri hear about the plans for another album, they don’t freak out. They just stumble back into their depression. There are a lot of reasons why that bothers you—they’re the maknaes, they’re always the happiest, they’re always the most determined, they’re your dongsaengs and you want to make them happy.

 

So you start writing again because, right now, that’s the best you can do.

 

Dae Sung shocks you one morning though. He comes into your room, knocking quietly, and he talks to you about wanting to sing a solo song in the new album. You love the idea, frankly, because Dae Sung’s voice is amazing and he deserves it and this is the persevering dongsaeng that you know and adore. You sit with him for days perfecting his song—aptly named _Wings_. And, when you’re finished, you feel like you’ve bonded with him in those few days more than you have in entire years.

 

That makes you excited. The energy makes you excited, and it makes you want to continue writing, but you suddenly think of Seung Ri. Everyone seems to have a part in the new album, except Seung Ri. That makes your heart ache, because this album is supposed to be about BIGBANG coming back to life after overcoming all their obstacles, about BIGBANG putting their all back into the music.

 

Seung Ri is still in his room, probably wallowing in some mixture of insecurity and anxiety, and he hasn’t come back to life yet. The Seung Ri sitting in that room isn’t _Seung Ri_ and that, mixed with the cold winter air outside your window, makes you want to write about spring. In spring, everything blooms, and you need Seung Ri to bloom again as well. The group would be incomplete without the overactive, charismatic maknae you came to know and love.

 

_Your maknae._

 

The words come to you fast, unrelenting and strong, and that part’s pretty easy but you skip a lot of sleep trying to get the melody right for Seung Ri’s too-soft voice. You spend so much time mixing the melody just right that, by the time you think you might be done with the song, you’re ready to collapse on your bed—and you do, you sleep for almost twenty hours—and, when you wake up, you are _ready_.

 

You burst into Seung Ri’s room and he’s sprawled in his bed among a mess of sheets and pillows, listening to music, but he sits up straight as soon as he sees you and removes his earphones. You’re smiling and you sit on his bed and offer him the papers in your hand.

 

Seung Ri peruses the papers and he recognizes all the notes and all the words, even in your messy handwriting, and then he notices _his_ singing parts and his eyes go wide. “Hyung, this is…”

 

“I finished the lyrics yesterday,” you explain, still smiling. “You have a big part, so make sure to get the meaning of the words right.”

 

There is no smile on Seung Ri’s face, though, and you’re starting to worry. He keeps looking over the lyrics, mouthing the words, and you can tell that the Seung Ri you know is in there somewhere, pumping his fist in the air because he enjoys singing too much to _not_ be proud about having such a big part. But the Seung Ri that you’re watching right now is thin-lipped and serious and not excited at _all_.

 

“I don’t think I can do this.”

 

Your smile drops fast. “What?”

 

Seung Ri puts the papers down on his bed and runs a hand through his hair (it’s gotten longer and you like it but you have to focus). “Hyung, I can’t sing this. I’m not ready to sing this in front of people, I’m not… I can’t...”

 

He trails off and you study him in wonder because, since the moment you met Seung Ri all those years ago, he’s never said he ‘couldn’t do’ _anything_.

 

“Seung Ri.”

 

“Hyung—”

 

“No, Seung Ri, _listen to me_.” You grab his face with both hands, leveling him with a look, and he looks so unlike your Seung Ri that it actually physically _hurts_. “Only your voice could make this song perfect. I wrote this song with your voice tone in my mind. I know your voice. I know you can sing this.”

 

You stare at each other for a while, and Seung Ri seems to break into a bunch of tiny pieces in front of you, but he smiles after a moment and you know he’ll sing the song. You hug him tightly, the force of it sending him falling backwards, because you want your Seung Ri back and you believe that, part by part, he’s returning to you.

 

In a matter of weeks, the five of you are all together, recording and fooling around with each other. You have more fun recording this album than you thought was possible and, when the five of you are bored one day, you all decide to put together another song.

 

It’s amazing, making music and sharing your passions with each other; it’s great just to be recording together again.

 

But the recording comes to an end about two weeks later and YG informs you that you’ll be working on a photo book project in Europe. You’re on a schedule again and you should feel a little sore and exhausted but you _don’t_. If anything, you feel refreshed; you’re happy to have a schedule. It means you’re doing something _right_ , it means everything’s getting better.

 

You have an excellent time in Europe, even though it feels kind of awkward to be posing for a camera again, to have cameras following your every move again, and you enjoy the trip.

 

TOP-hyung is more like himself. Though, it’s funny trying to see him be the oldest when you know for a fact that he wants nothing more than to break out into a childish fit over everything. Dae Sung is quiet, for the most part, but he’s smiling, so you know everything is okay. Or, if it isn’t, you know it will be. Young Bae is the most energetic out of all of you. He plays with dogs and children he sees in the park and he’s making all of you laugh and that is definitely Young Bae.

 

But Seung Ri bothers you. He still looks like he’s still missing some parts to him, like he’s still unsure of himself, and _that_ isn’t totally right yet, but you’ll wait if you have to.

 

Seung Ri is always worth it, remember?

 

So you keep hugging him, you keep holding his hand, because it’s all you can do to bring him back down from his thoughts and see him smile. It’s all you can do and it’s all you’ll keep doing for as long as you have arms and hands.

 

And soon, you’re working on your music videos. You all decide on New York, which seems like a freaking great idea at the time, but it’s still _winter_ and New York plus winter minus jackets equal certain death and you forgot about that. But the wardrobe for the music videos call for a hip-hop style and Dae Sung and Young Bae are forced into clothes that do not warm enough and you’re kind of sorry.

 

You’d be more sorry if you weren’t so focused on not freezing.

 

The music videos get finished on time, despite the horridly cold temperature, and the only thing you really dislike is getting screamed at by fans while you move from airport to airport.

 

Because _now_ you’re stressed about your comeback stage. You haven’t performed in almost a year and that freaks you out. Things are changing—you’ve gotten new tattoos and your hairstyle is totally unheard of, Seung Ri’s getting a haircut and piercings, Dae Sung is making his hair blonde, TOP-hyung is dyeing his hair _mint_ —and time seems to be moving too fast. It’s so odd, rehearsing on the stage again, recording a concert again, being interviewed again, and you have to take up praying with Young Bae and Dae Sung to handle all of it. You need some divine strength, if it can be given.

 

Minutes before you’re due on stage, you hear the fans cheering. You’re setting yourself up in your slot, the members are going through their last preparations before being fitted into theirs, and you hear it. You hear each individual cheer, each individual voice; you can almost see the sea of yellow lights in the shape of small crowns; you can almost see the happy faces of the fans.

 

The other members glow when they hear the cheers—Seung Ri, especially, looks like he’s finally gotten all of himself back through the fans—but it nearly gets to you and throws you off your game and you work to pull yourself together.

 

You’ve put every last shred of love, hope, time, and skill into this comeback. You’ve put every last ounce of you into making this stage perfect and you are going to do it correctly, so help you _God_. No more mistakes, no more regrets, no more hiding.

 

BIGBANG is back.


	9. Perpetuity

Perpetuity

_the quality or condition of being perpetual ; time without end ; **eternity**_

 

The albums, _Alive_ and _Still Alive_ , are well-received.

 

Okay, that’s an understatement—the albums are _awesome_ and everyone _loves_ them and you’re freaking _bathing_ in pride because of the fact that your music, your fans, will never let you down.

 

You make it through the variety show appearances, through the interviews, through every question that they throw at you, and it’s not really hard because Seung Ri likes answering most of the questions anyway. And it’s okay, better than okay, because you watch Seung Ri and you see that he’s your maknae again. You watch and you stare—you know you do, you’ve never bothered to hide it—because Seung Ri glows under attention and you don’t feel quite as bad about him looking for it anymore.

 

It’s taken you years, and then some, but you realize that Seung Ri has always been fragile and insecure somewhere under his charismatic and invincible exterior. He doesn’t need people to like him because he’s arrogant or self-absorbed; he needs it because he’s not actually as strong as he loves to pretend he is.

 

Part of you wishes someone would’ve told you that sooner.

 

But it doesn’t matter anyway because you know _now_ , and that’s what matters. He sings and you listen, you dance and he watches—and he is still the maknae that worships you. He’s still your maknae, even if you don’t say it aloud.

 

“Ji Yong-hyung is really hardworking,” Seung Ri says to the _entire crowd of people_ you’re performing for, and the high of performing is making you too bold and his compliment makes you too happy, so you kiss his ear. He smiles and continues with a, “Our leader is amazing!”

 

And you kiss his cheek and he’s still smiling and you really love this kid.

 

But he has to be in Japan, all by himself, for a while; TOP-hyung has to start working on his new movie; you have to go to Paris for a photoshoot. You worry that he’s going to get in trouble all by himself, or that he might get homesick, or that he might just get plain _sick_. You worry and you voice your worries but Seung Ri just smirks and tells you he’ll be alright, tells you to have fun in Paris with your pink hair.

 

Because, while Seung Ri needs constant attention, he doesn’t actually like people constantly surrounding him, and you think that’s really contradictory and confusing, but you trust him to do well so you leave him to it. He’ll be fine—he’ll do great on his own and your stomach twists a little at that, dislikes the feeling of not being needed.

 

He calls you a lot, though.

 

“I miss you, hyung. I love you, hyung.”

 

And his voice is nice to hear, his confessions so honest, and it makes you happy, even if you complain that you’re busy and can’t talk.

 

You like Paris, you enjoy it. Even though you have a job to do, you love going to different countries because nothing is quite as inspiring as traveling.

 

Of course, it’s infinitely better when the five members are performing as one. No matter how freeing it might be to do your own thing in another country, you all love being together on the stage and you all love music. This is your job, this is your art, this is what you do _well_.

 

It feels great to know that you have this and that nothing can take this away from you.

 

So you perform your music with pride, with no concerns and no regrets; you hold Seung Ri’s hand and watch him, not missing a single thing; you lay in your bed at night and you feel euphoric because you’re performing all together again and again and _again_.

 

Then you remember Seung Ri—how he wants BIGBANG to last forever, how he loves it when everyone’s together, how he loves the power of all of you as one—and you think. You have never been able to promise him more than music and love and it was enough for a while.

 

It’s not enough anymore. Not quite.

 

You sneak into his room, like the creepy and obsessed person you try to hide that you are, and he’s not asleep yet, so he smiles when he sees you. You sit beside him, in the dark, and you notice everything about him—his hair is growing back, his panda eyes are ever-present, the curves at the ends of his mouth have always been there.

 

_Always, always, always your maknae._

 

He lays his head on your shoulder, comfortable to sit with you in the darkened silence, and you sit there and you just love him because that’s really all you’ve been doing for years so it’s impossible to stop. And you won’t stop even if you can—even if he’s too scared, even if the world thinks it’s wrong, even if you know it’s dangerous. You’ve never cared for what others thought of you, for what the safer option is. Seung Ri’s worth it, after all.

 

So you sit and you _love_ and you’ve never been exceptionally good at keeping people happy, or keeping them at all, so you can’t promise Seung Ri that the both of you will always be thrilled and satisfied. But you love Seung Ri and you want him to be happy and you _can_ promise him something else.

 

You can promise him forever.


End file.
